


The Woodcutter and the Fawn

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Fawnlock, First Kiss, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2019726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fawnlock wants to know the woodcutter' secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woodcutter and the Fawn

Sherlock peered through the brush. The human woodcutter was working steadily, shirt off, sweat shining in the midday sun. Mycroft said to leave the humans alone, but Sherlock had been watching this one for weeks. He lived alone. The only contact he had with other humans was the cart from the village that came up every other week to collect wood in exchange for food and other things.

There was one other curiosity about the woodcutter. His left arm was made of wood. And when he thought he was alone, the wooden arm worked just as well as the whole one. Around other humans he always wore gloves and a shirt, and was careful to do most everything with his right. Sherlock knew there had to be powerful magic on the wood arm, but he didn't know of anyone who could do such a thing. And he didn't want to ask Mycroft and give away his observation.

Sherlock shifted. A branch broke and he froze. The woodcutter swung around with his axe. Hoping to fool the human, Sherlock raised his head until his antlers stuck out. They were small still, but the fawn hoped he'd be mistaken for an ordinary deer. The woodcutter looked at him and smiled. "I know you've been watching me. Come out, please?"

Sherlock hesitated, then slowly stepped into the clearing. He was a bit taller than the human, but the muscular blond showed no fear. He looked Sherlock up and down before fixing his gaze on his eyes. "You're beautiful."

The fawn blushed at the compliment, ducking his head. "My name is John," said the human, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Sherlock." He nuzzled against John's hand.

The human smiled broader. "Are you thirsty? There's a spring nearby."

Sherlock's tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips. He nodded.

John led him to the spring, though Sherlock already knew the way. He observed the way John walked, the natural way his wooden arm moved. As they reached the spring, Sherlock reached out to touch the magic arm.

Chuckling, John reached up and pressed some hidden lever and removed the arm, handing it over for the fawn's inspection. It hummed with magic, but Sherlock found his eyes drawn to the stump of flesh that remained.

"I suppose you want to hear that story," said John, settling on the low stone wall around the spring. "I wasn't always a woodcutter."

Sherlock's ear twitched as he handed back the arm. “Seven years,” he deduced.

John gave him a look as he put it back in place and flexed the wooden fingers. "That's right. I’ve been here seven years. But you've only been watching me for a few weeks. I can feel your presence, or any magical creatures."

"Who made you the arm?" Sherlock sat next to him.

"I carved it myself," there was some pride in the tone. "But as to who animated it, well, that's a longer story. I was a soldier, before. Nobody important, not a knight or a squire. Just a foot soldier. I had some talent with herb though, so I was often with the healers after a battle. But my place was with the soldiers. And so it came to pass that one day in the midst of a terrible battle,I lost my arm. I tried to tie it off quickly, but I soon fainted from the loss of blood."

John paused, watching Sherlock's face. Sherlock had heard of battles and war. Human concerns, mostly. His folk tried to stay far away from it. "Go on, please," he said.

"I woke in a cottage. First of all, I was surprised to be alive at all. There was a woman there, neither young or old, and as she turned to me, I could see she was blind. She fed me and changed the bandage on my arm, saying little. Never did tell me exactly how I came into her care. As I got stronger she started sending me into the woods around us to collect herbs and the like.

"I always did what she asked. After all, she'd no doubt saved my life. It was while I was with her that I began to learn of the magical world, and that it was more than in simple winter tales. I didn't try to leave; after all, what did I have to go back to. And one day she asked me what I wanted. I told her I'd be content just living in the woods. She smiled and bade me to carve an arm.

"I figured it would just be a dummy, but I carved it with care. It was mid-winter when I finished. She sat me down and told me that when she finished, I must leave. She said I'd wander a bit, but I'd find my woods. That seven years later, I'd find the one that would lift my loneliness."

"And here I am," said Sherlock. He'd never put much stock in prophecy, but there was no denying the way he felt drawn to John. And it was spring, the time for mating.

"And here you are." John drew him into a gentle kiss. Sherlock melted into it and they tumbled together into the grass.

**Author's Note:**

> For the AU exchangelock and quicksilvers-goggles
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
